Sympathy for the Devil
by Silveriss
Summary: Sequel to Curse of Darkness. In their search for the source of a new evil Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades, Hector and Julia discover that Isaac didn't die in the fall of Dracula's Castle. Warning: Some original characters.
1. IllFated Contrivance

Disclaimer: Castlevania © Konami. "Sympathy for the Devil" and all original characters and places © Christine J. Burke.

Sympathy for the Devil

Chapter 1: Ill-Fated Contrivance

Deep in the mountains in the region of Europe known as Valachia is a small but thriving village. The village seems oddly untouched by the affects of Dracula's Curse, though the menace of the Curse plagued the land for three years before its malice suddenly and unexpectantly eased. It's been nearly two years since that fortunate boon and Trevor Belmont was once again proclaimed a hero and a mighty warrior of God.

That's not to say that this particular small town, known as Targo, was not plagued by its own problems. The people of this village are resourceful and know much of the ancient ways. Perhaps that's due to the various gypsy bands that frequent the area or it might be due to certain darker influences. For whatever reason, the town has weathered the Chaos and is slowly beginning to recover from the Nightmare.

A little outside the Town of Targo, about and hour brisk walk up the mountain is a strange house set back in the woods. Located in a clearing, and part of what is obviously a moderately sized compound, the house seems quite comfortable yet slightly out of place for the mountainous region.

Across from the house, on the other side of the compound, is a building that is very obviously a smith's forge. Over the years the forge has been used for many things but now it is clearly being used for its intended purpose. Along the outside of the building many metal objects, from farm tools to statuary and masonry frames, line the various pathways leading to the dirt road linking the village with the smith's compound.

In the back of the compound is a fair sized barn and stable. The clucking of hens and the softy whinny of a pair of horses can be heard inside. Along side the barn, between the house and the stable, is a small garden. The last of the squash and melons have been taken in and the garden is cleared in preparation of the upcoming winter.

The days are growing shorter and much colder. This makes little difference to the young man who works the forge. The fire in the well-constructed building constantly provides heat for all three buildings in the compound due to careful engineering. The fires even provide for indoor heated plumbing.

As the day begins to die away, painting the mountain sky a brilliant, but somber crimson, the young man at the bellows of the forge begins his own preparations for turning down the forge for the night. He has little concern if the fire goes out other than that it will provide a cold night for him in his bed. Starting a new fire is quite easy for him.

When the door to his forge opens he smiles softly under the scrap of thick cloth over his mouth and nose. He hardly looks like a blacksmith. He's wearing a pair of simple leather pants that lace up the sides of his legs. Over these leather pants he's wearing a pair of thigh-high leather boots with short heels. Other than the concealing blacksmith's apron and the elbow-high, thick but tight fitting, leather gloves, he can claim no other clothing.

His soft, clear eyes reflect the dim red glow of the coals, turning the irises an almost demonic shade of red. Combined with his strawberry and crimson red hair, pale skin and his extensive tattooing, the image of an otherworldly being is complete. To compliment the strangeness of the young man, his build is hardly that of a typical black smith. His thin, lightly muscled, lithe body seems more at home on a dance floor than swinging a hammer. However, anyone who sees him working would ever doubt that his skills as a smith are largely unparalleled.

When the sounds of the footsteps can be heard over the crackling coals the young man calls out to his guest, "I'm sorry. I've already turned down my forge for the evening. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come back tomorrow."

His guest pauses for a moment, looking down at the cracked and splintered sword in his hand. He doesn't even look up when he speaks, giving the young man time to examine him more closely. What he sees makes him pause and wonder briefly if he should simply tell the man to depart before he recognizes him.

Standing in front of the fiery-haired young smith is a man with hair so bleach-blond that it looks white. The man's build is a little more muscular than his own and he knows that the blond moves with all the grace of a lord's hunting hound.

The blonde's clothing is what gives him away. Dressed in brushed suede pants and a tight but comfortable blue padded vest the man clearly has a sense of what he needs to travel. The fact that he has armor adorning his legs, arms and chest, carefully sewn to the leather to optimize mobility and defense, accentuates that the blond is no stranger to battle.

The young smith doesn't even have to see the crest on the back of the man's padded vest and armor to know it's the same one that is tattooed to his own back. He also doesn't need the blond to look up to know that the man's eyes are only two shades darker than his own clear blue, tinged with a dull silver.

Standing before him now, lamenting his sword's destruction, is the Devil Forge Master, Hector. The young smith is glad that his muffling cloth, designed to keep the soot from his mouth, nose and lungs, is clearly concealing his own identity. This man before him once swore to kill him. Granted, he deserved it but he won't think about that now.

The smith realizes that he's supposed to respond to whatever the blond said. He thinks for a moment before answering. "I've settled my fire for the night. I can't do anything for your sword now." He doesn't know what compels him to say it. Perhaps he feels some professional pride that makes him say his next words. "That's not to say I can't repair your weapon. It'll have to be done on the morrow though. There is an…"

The young smith is interrupted as another individual walks through the forge's door. "Hector, what is taking so long? Can he fix it or not?" Once the newcomer spots the smith he hisses, "You! It cannot be."

The redheaded young man snaps his gaze up to look at the newest intruder. This situation just went from bad to worse. Much worse now that Hector has shifted his gaze from his weapon to the smith.

Hector lets out his breath with a soft, hushed sound. He breaths out, unbelieving, "Isaac…?"

Indeed, that is the young smith's name and there can be no doubt that it is not some strange coincidence in names. He is the same Isaac that both men in his doorway once tried to kill. Isaac takes a step back, uncertain what his options are.

The man in the doorway moves as fast as a stinging wasp. His hand is immediately at his belt, pulling the harsh whip to bear. Isaac is grateful for the interference of Hector and his counter being in the way. The great Vampire Hunter, who defeated his lord, Dracula, doesn't have a clear shot with that deadly whip.

The Vampire Hunter, Trevor Belmont, lets out a growl of frustration and concern. With Hector's weapon clearly broken on the counter the blond man is vulnerable to attack. He narrows his ice-blue eyes, one side of his face crinkling oddly due to the slash across his left eye. He tosses his thick brown hair back roughly, waiting for an opening.

Trevor Belmont is a practical man. He's dressed for light travel and quick fighting. The duster over his tunic, pants and riding chaps also works as a place to conceal his many vampire-slaying weapons. The belts crossing his hips and chest all contain wicked daggers that Isaac knows first-hand can be thrown with deadly accuracy in an instant.

Isaac steps back as far as he can go before raising his empty gloved hands. "I am unarmed." He thinks about saying something more but decides to wait for a response. He'd rather not fight these two men again but he won't beg for his life. He doesn't expect any mercy from either of them anyway.

Hector glances back at Trevor for a moment. He knows it's a risky move but Isaac makes no move to attack. He holds his hand up to Trevor. "Stay your hand, Belmont. We didn't come here to fight."

Trevor glares at Isaac. "No, but I wouldn't trust that fiend at my back, Hector. Don't forget what he's capable of."

Isaac grimaces and says under his breath, "God hates me. It must be true."

Hector raises an eyebrow at Isaac. "Just why are you here? How can you be alive? What are you planning?"

Isaac blinks at Hector in the growing darkness. Even the soft glow of the forge can't hold it back for much longer. He takes a deep breath and says, "I work as the local blacksmith and I plan on keeping it that way. If you're looking for high and mighty ambitions you're looking in the wrong place. I had my taste of power and it left a foul taste in my mouth."

Hector seems about to respond when Trevor steps forward. Isaac cringes back for a moment but visibly gathers himself. No, this is not the cruel ambitious man out for revenge against the death of his lord. Trevor gives him a closer inspection and notices several scars that mar the streamline beauty of Isaac's tattoos. Some of those scars are clearly from debilitating wounds. It must have taken Isaac a long time to recover from the events two years ago.

Isaac clears his throat as he stands up and faces Trevor Belmont in what is clear defiance. "If you think I'm just going to roll over and let you kill me you are sorely mistaken. I lived through Dracula's destruction twice. I survived the collapse of everything I knew and the betrayal and abandonment of those I held dear. I will not submit now. I still have some pride left to me."

Hector reaches out a hand to stay Trevor's arm. "We didn't come here for this."

Trevor glances at Hector and then back at Isaac. He fixes his duster with a harsh jerk and rewraps the whip at his waist. He glares at Hector as he turns for the door. "Do as you like." He nods scornfully at Isaac. "Don't turn your back on that one, Hector."

Hector doesn't say anything as Trevor leaves. He just turns his gaze back to Isaac. The silence extends between them for some time before Isaac says, "It's getting dark. I take it you two don't have a place for the night. The inn will be closed by the time you get there, if it isn't by now."

Hector looks at him before shaking his head. "We've been traveling through the mountains camping along the way. We stay in town when we can but…" He looks at Isaac. "Julia is wary about spending too much time in town. The witch-hunts have resumed in earnest."

Isaac frowns. "You're traveling in the open _with_ Julia through the mountains? Are you insane!"

Hector cringes lightly. He's been feeling rather guilty about bringing Julia along himself. "She insisted."

Isaac takes in a deep breath and swipes a hand slowly over his face to push down the cloth covering his mouth and nose, revealing the tattoo on his right cheek. He smirks lightly. "Julia always was a bull-headed woman."

Isaac shakes his head and moves to take off both the cloth and the apron. He pulls off both gloves and simply lays them over the counter. He goes to the door and hangs up his apron. He looks back at Hector as he pulls down a fur-lined coat and dons it. Isaac shakes his head as he says, "I'm locking up my forge for the night, Hector. I can't do anything about your sword tonight. I'll work on it first thing tomorrow morning. For now you can put your horses in the stable and stay the night."

Hector's eyes widen at that. "It's clear you don't trust us, Isaac. Why offer us your home?"

Isaac shrugs. "You're here. What else should I do? Send you out to the woods on a cold, full-moon night to play with the were-wolves?"

Hector grins. "This is how I remember you before Dracula's Curse…"

Isaac holds the door open for Hector to leave and then turns to lock the door behind them. When he turns to face the others he's not surprised to see Trevor glaring at him and Julia's wide eyes gazing out the window of a carriage at him. Another woman is beside her but Isaac's eyes are settled only on his sister.

Julia reaches for the small door of the carriage but Isaac shakes his head and just goes to the front of the team of two horses and starts to lead them to the stables. Once inside he unhitches the carriage and sets each horse up in their own stall, feeding them hot mash along with his own two work horses and one riding steed.

Isaac leaves the others to ponder his actions as he does all the nightly things that must be done in the stables before retiring to the house. Hector and Julia clearly have questions while the other woman hovers near Trevor, trying to calm him.

As Isaac listens to their soft bantering he learns that the woman is Sypha Belnades, an exorcist of considerable power who helped Trevor defeat Lord Dracula the first time, five years ago. She's dressed in the grey robes of her order, long since used to concealing her appearance and gender. She remains an enigma.

Once Isaac is done in the stables he turns to his guests and says "It's warmer in the house…" He doesn't even look back at them as he moves to lock up the barn and stables and returns to the house.

Once inside the house Julia can't contain her questions any longer. She blurts out, "How, Isaac? Why?"

Isaac hangs his coat by the door and turns to look at her, leaning against the back of the door. "How? Why?" He takes out a flint and sets a flame to a candle before using the candle to light all the little oil lamps in each of the downstairs rooms. As he's doing this he looks thoughtful.

Finally he speaks, "How did I survive you mean?" He doesn't even look at them as he pauses to look up, as if for inspiration. "I don't know. I have more lives than a cat, apparently. I do remember being bested by Hector, falling in and out of consciousness, feeling Lord Dracula possessing my body and watching as he and Hector fought. I watched it all, Julia…and there was nothing I could do…about any of it." He grimaces and shrugs uncomfortably.

Julia whispers, "It was the only way to save you…"

Isaac smiles softly at her. "That doesn't make it hurt any less."

Julia can only look down at the ground, examining the well-kept hardwood floor.

Isaac looks at her and whispers softly, "It's my turn, Julia." He glances at Hector. "Why did you leave me in that place to die? I know I committed many sins but wasn't there something of me with enough value to be worth burying?"

Julia visibly cringes. "I didn't have the strength to take you both…"

Isaac smirks with a self-deprivating grimace. "You never expected me to live. You knew it from the beginning… that I would fail once again."

Julia bites her lip and clenches her eyes shut, tears brimming at the edges. She gives one brief nod of acknowledgement and can say no more.

Isaac looks at Hector and then at Trevor. "I take it you both still want r revenge. To say I deserve it is something of an understatement. I will offer neither of you excuses for my behavior. However, I can offer you reasons why it all happened."

Trevor looks at Isaac and frowns. "What possible reason could justify the atrocities you committed?"

Isaac shakes his head. "I never said the reasons would justify anything. I only meant I can tell you what happened. Maybe you can use it to prevent it from happening to others… or maybe I'd just feel better if I got it off my chest… Who knows? But there it is. Take it or leave it."

Isaac winds his way to the kitchen larder and pulls out a hunk of smoked meat he quickly and expertly chops up and scrapes into a broth he started making earlier that evening. He then pulls out a loaf of bread and looks at them. "I don't have much to offer you. The village sends up fresh bread every day and I get some meat about once a week. I believe it's how the town pays for my services. They really don't want me to just up and leave. Not that I have anywhere else to go."

Julia steps forward. "Did you want some help?"

Isaac shrugs. "There's not much to help with. This won't take all that long." He pulls out a bottle of local red wine. It's not terribly expensive but it's not the worst stuff on Earth either. The body is a little shallow and it's a bit too sweet but it helps to wash down a rather plain dinner.

Trevor crosses his arms and leans against a wall. "How the mighty have fallen. I can't say I'm sorry for you."

Isaac actually chuckles. "It's better to be a humble servant in Heaven than a luxurious slave in Hell, Belmont. Lord Dracula was a harsh taskmaster. The price of failure could be quite high. The price of betrayal…that was always death. All I can say for him now was that he was mostly fair to those who obeyed him."

Hector raises an eyebrow at that. "You didn't always believe that, Isaac. There was once a time you would worship the ground he walked on."

Isaac looks at Hector with a dirty glint in his eyes. "That was before Death decided to give him my body for his resurrection. I don't believe _that_ stain on my soul will ever come clean, not even if I joined the clergy and dedicated my life to absolute devotion to God." He grimaces and takes a large swallow of his wine. "No, I'm destined to go straight to Hell, I'm sure. Not that I'm all that surprised. They've been telling me that since I was born, screaming, from my mother's womb."

Julia looks up sharply at that. She watches her brother with penetrating, knowing eyes. In some ways the siblings are very much alike yet none would guess they are brother and sister unless they were told. Where Isaac's hair is shimmering red, Julia's is a soft gold. Though both their eyes are blue, Isaac's are so clear they reflect the area surrounding him. Julia's eyes can never be mistaken for anything other than blue.

Dressed in a purple dress that matches to the mountain's summer wild flowers, Julia is a stunning beauty to look at yet seems comfortable in humble surroundings. She has no tattoos to mark her as unique and makes no attempt at flamboyant appearance. She often envied her brother's non-chalant air regarding dress. Isaac never really cared much about appearance yet has always had a flair for the dramatic.

Julia looks up to see her brother studying her. She quickly lowers her gaze again, saying nothing.

Isaac shakes his head with a sad look in his eyes. "That won't do, Julia. Don't let this pull you down. I remember my sister's eyes to be full of fierce wisdom. I would like to know that woman survived through the Dark Curse."

Julia whispers, "I betrayed you…"

"No, Julia. You were the only one who was trying to save me. I've always known that."

Julia jerks her head up to look Isaac in the eyes. Isaac's expression is not full of self-pity or scorn. Isaac has given his former situation much thought over the past two years. His eyes show his regret but, more importantly, his face reveals his acceptance. He has moved on. Isaac realizes his mistakes but he has accepted them and is now building his life anew.


	2. Remorse Without SelfLoathing

Disclaimer: Castlevania © Konami. "Sympathy for the Devil" and all original characters and places © Christine J. Burke.

Sympathy for the Devil

Chapter 2: Remorse Without Self-Loathing

Trevor Belmont could not believe what he has witnessed. It all seemed so surreal. Isaac, the most evil of Devil Forge Masters, the most arrogant and cunning, was alive after his defeat at Hector's hands two years ago. Yet, Trevor knew Hector and Julia had not fooled him. Both had mourned Isaac's loss in their own way. Julia had wept bitter tears over Isaac's madness and subsequent death. Trevor had feared the Curse would have claimed two from that family.

Trevor sat up from the bed that had been afforded to him. He had to admit that, in spite of the tense, hostile atmosphere, Isaac has been a gracious host. Not only has Isaac housed them for the night but also he's fed them from his own admittedly meager stores, given them clean, comfortable beds to sleep in and allowed them all the luxury of a hot bath. Now that was a treat after the long road and the constant camping out-of-doors.

Scarred blue eyes turned to look at the door. In spite of Isaac's hospitality, Trevor could never find rest under this roof. The wound just under his heart, the one that nearly put an end to him, still throbbed every now and then. It took him a long time to regain his strength and his profession as a vampire hunter.

With a soft "humph" and a grimace, Trevor stands and starts to pace the room. He's been a vampire hunter since his father first taught him to wield his whip. His family has been hunting Dracula for so long they can't even remember how the feud had started. He'd like to think that some ancestor of his found serving God and slaying evil was rewarding but he knows it's more likely that Dracula did something to some ancestor or another to warrant a need for revenge, something that couldn't be achieved in the course of a single generation.

Suddenly feeling trapped in the small guest room, another surprise from the odd house being that there were four guest rooms. Perhaps the house was once a grand hotel in its past but that idea just doesn't seem quite right. It dawns on him as soon as he thinks of it. There's no reception area, no place for a guest to sign in.

Trevor shakes his thoughts clear as he opens the door to pace the hall silently. Over the years he's grown to trust his instincts and his instincts scream at him not to trust Isaac. The sooner they leave this house the safer he'll feel. He would rather deal with the werewolves Isaac mentioned than trust the red-haired fiend with his unguarded back.

No, he won't be getting any sleep tonight but, as he silently wanders the odd halls, he discovers that he's not the only one. Sitting in a large comfortable chair, curled up like an edgy cat, is the object of his recent consternation. Isaac doesn't look much better than he does, as much disturbed by the current situation as any of them.

Trevor studies Isaac for a moment, noting the tension that runs along each fine and tightly honed muscle. Isaac is stubbornly attempting to read from a thick book but clearly having little success. He also looks incredibly tired and his hand shakes lightly as he occasionally reaches for a glass filled with something that appears to be decidedly stronger than that awful wine with dinner. Isaac grimaces at the taste but swallows without any other protest.

With a soft, frustrated sound, Isaac carelessly tosses the leather-bound volume to a table alongside the chair. He leans back and stares out the window into the black night. He's not expecting to see much and so he's not disappointed when he's faced with a pane of apparently black glass. Trevor is given the impression that Isaac is far from oblivious to his surroundings.

Finally, as if from the void, Isaac's voice penetrates the silence. The soft light of the oil lamp next to him flickers as he shifts his position in the seat. "You might as well sit down. It would probably calm both our nerves."

Trevor frowns in the doorway where he was inspecting Isaac from a discreet distance. "Having trouble sleeping at night, fiend?" He doesn't know what has him so defensive but he's irritated at being caught at spying.

Isaac smirks lightly. His eyes are a dark indigo in the lamplight. "I'm not the only one ill-at-ease with our current situation or are you often in the habit of ghosting through hallways on dark nights? Perhaps my knife did its work and I am faced with the unbelieving spirit of Trevor Belmont and not the flesh and blood man I have been lead to believe is before me."

Trevor's eyes narrow to tiny glints, crinkling his scar wickedly. "You fear reprisal. You have a right to be afraid, Isaac. I've half a mind to end this right here and now."

"End what? What has begun that needs to be finished?" Isaac's eyes weigh down on Trevor with a heavy gaze that leaves no room to doubt that the fiery-haired young man has been affected by his ordeals.

Trevor is put back on his heels at the deceptively simple question. He pauses to consider his answer but Isaac isn't content to wait.

"The Isaac you knew is dead, Trevor Belmont. He was slain by Hector in Dracula's Castle. His body was left in the crumbling ruins. I suppose it is for the best." He looks like he would say more but he shrugs helplessly instead.

Trevor raises an eyebrow at Isaac's apparent apathy to his defeat. "Once you swore vengeance against Hector for defeating you and aiding in Dracula's defeat. Now that he's done it himself, with his own hands, you're saying that you feel nothing?"

Isaac turns his head to look out the black window again, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of something to distract him. "It's not that I feel nothing. I have a lot of regret for the sins I committed while under the influence of Dracula's Curse. I feel even more remorse for the sins I committed under my own power. I have no excuse for those."

Trevor frowns and finally sits in another chair a comfortable distance from Isaac. "Why did you attempt to raise Dracula?"

Isaac frowns, looking thoughtful. "It didn't start off that way. To be honest I had no idea that Lord Dracula would be revived. All I could think about was my revenge. Hector humiliated me. He betrayed my trust and fled like a coward after besting me in battle. When I came to, Lord Dracula was already gone. I was powerless to stop any of it in the end. That once bothered me to no end. Now I only feel cold and numb."

Trevor absently rubs at the throbbing in his chest as he watches Isaac. This conversation has certainly unnerved him. All he can do now is doggedly pursue his line of questioning. "You seemed to take great pleasure in stabbing me in the back. Aren't you concerned that I will seek revenge?"

Isaac shrugs. "I took less pleasure in that than you realize. I'm not in the habit of stabbing people in the back. I couldn't have you interfering any further but, if I was in my right mind, I could think of better, less dishonorable, ways to remove you as a threat." He looks directly at Trevor. "As for revenge against me… That's up to you. I won't worry about it…for now."

Trevor narrows his eyes. "You're using the Curse as an excuse."

Isaac looks at Trevor sharply. "Never. There _is_ no excuse for the things I have done. I will not beg forgiveness from you or anyone else. I will only give you reasons for my actions. I don't want your pity so I'll offer you no excuses. I made my own choices. They may have been poor and I may regret them but they were mine. My own failings caused me to submit to Dracula's Curse. Mine and no one else's. I committed my sins and I can't change that fact."

Isaac pauses to collect himself before saying, "You never gave in to the Curse." He looks at Trevor with discerning eyes. "Or did you?"

Trevor growls, "Don't equate me with the likes of you."

Isaac's expression becomes largely unreadable but the haughty arrogance that Trevor remembers shines from beneath layers of debilitating humiliation and pain. "Are you better than all other men? Are you perfect? Have you never had a dark thought in your life? Dracula's Curse is a subtle thing. It takes normal human emotions and twists and corrupts them until even you can't recognize your own thoughts from the destructive impulses of the Curse."

Trevor frowns. "I am a man. I feel the darkness of sin but I never gave in to the Curse. I am not that weak."

Isaac's face closes off once again, becoming unreadable. "Did I seem weak to you, Trevor Belmont? Was it weakness you saw when you faced me in the Ruins of Aiolon? No, Trevor Belmont, I did not give in to weakness. I fell victim to treachery. I made a mistake that left me vulnerable to manipulation. To add insult to that injury, I was not even the one they wanted. Hector was their target all along."

Isaac reaches over and picks up his half-finished glass of alcohol. He examines the dark amber fluid for a moment before downing the rest of it with a grimace. "I was used, Trevor Belmont. I was used by the one person I trusted other than Julia and Hector. Or perhaps not. I would like to believe that Lord Dracula would not have condoned Death's actions but, realistically, I understand I was always expendable to both of them."

As Trevor watches Isaac examining his now empty glass he can see the confusion written over the other man's face. Watching him more closely, Trevor can see that Isaac has already been drinking for some time tonight. The fiery young man is on a path of self-destruction. Or, at least, that's how it's beginning to look to Trevor.

Isaac finally puts down the glass and looks directly at the vampire hunter. "All that aside, why are all of you here? Targo is a little out of the way for you, isn't it? And Hector's sword wouldn't have become so damaged unless he was striking at stone monsters with it, gargoyles and golems and the like. Just what are you up to?"

Trevor frowns as he watches Isaac's steady gaze. "The less you know, the better."

Isaac frowns. "If you're running from trouble, we have a right to know here. If you're running toward it, how close is it to us? Is there any reason why the people of this town should be concerned?"

Trevor smirks. "Concerned for the well-being of others? I don't believe it."

Isaac chuckles softly. "I was concerned for the well-being of Lord Dracula when I served him. I was concerned over the safety of my sister. I was betrayed by Hector. Someone you don't at least believe cared about you cannot betray you. I thought Hector was my friend. I regarded him as a brother and yet he fought me only to run like a coward from our master's wrath. Hector is the only other Devil Forge Master in all the known world. That meant something to me even if Hector did not feel the same."

Isaac turns away from the ill-concealed look of scorn in Trevor's eyes. Before Trevor can say anything Isaac says, "I've been told all my life that I will go straight to Hell. Since that is the case, why should I care about obeying God's laws now? I was damned the moment I was conceived."

Trevor says quietly, "All men can seek redemption, Isaac."

Isaac shakes his head and looks straight into Trevor's eyes. He has no fear of the man before him. "Perhaps that's true. Perhaps it's not. According to the Church my very position as a Devil Forge Master sentences me to eternal damnation. If I use my abilities or I abandon them, much as Hector once did, I will be granted no pardon. My existence is cursed. So why should I care about struggling to obey laws that aren't my own?"

Trevor looks over Isaac and is alarmed by what he's seeing. All of Isaac's words have left him with a sick feeling deep inside. Julia has professed to be a witch yet she seems remorseless over that fact. The Church has hunted witches in brutal acts of violence. In the course of their campaign against the Dark Arts many innocents have suffered as well. Hector's dear Rosalie, whom he speaks of so little, was falsely accused of being a witch and was promptly executed. She was only one of many. He once was able to glean from Alucard, Dracula's own son, that the witch-hunts took someone special from him as well.

Isaac remains quiet, letting Trevor come to his own conclusions for the time being. It's several long moments before Trevor feels he can speak.

Trevor's voice is low but builds with his confidence. "The world of men is ruled by men. Men are always committing sins but that doesn't mean they are deserving of the horrors that Dracula unleashed upon them. The creatures you unleashed upon the people of Europe did nothing but continue the madness, Isaac. Men kill each other all the time. We don't need monsters to show us the evils of the world."

Isaac shakes his head. "But, without those monsters we wouldn't understand the evil that exists within ourselves. We also wouldn't understand the good." He pauses before asking, "Did you ever tear off the wings of flies when you were a child, Belmont?"

Trevor frowns. "I might have… I probably did."

Isaac looks at him. "Did you ever bother thinking about how the fly felt about that? Probably not. No one bothers to think about how that fly is condemned to a slow, agonizing death. Children commit these acts. They poke at snakes with sharp sticks and then, when they are bitten, the world says, "Snakes are evil." Where did the evil start? Why is it so wrong for the snake to be there? It is what it is. Nothing will change that."

Trevor shakes his head but before he can say anything Isaac says, "People choose what they do. I was wrong in my services to Lord Dracula but the people who drove me to starve in the streets were wrong for how they treated me. It's done now. Nothing can change that. I, like the snake, am what I am. I can't change that. I can keep people from poking me with sticks though. I do that by staying here. I have nothing to give the world and there is nothing I want from it but to be left alone."

Trevor growls, "Would that I could believe you, Isaac. But you are known for your treachery."

Isaac doesn't bother to respond as he turns to stare out the black window in silence.


	3. Illusionary Diversions

Disclaimer: Castlevania © Konami. "Sympathy for the Devil" and all original characters and places © Christine J. Burke.

Sympathy for the Devil

Chapter 3: Illusionary Diversions

The clear, deadly ring of metal on metal splits the early morning air, while all of nature holds its breath waiting for the life-giving sun to part the clouds and reach its fingers down to grant much-desired warmth to the dark, cold mountainside. No other sound can be heard in the frigid air until the first tentative rays of light strikes the empty ground between the house and forge. Only then can the world release its held breath, taking its cue from the soft clucks of hens and the snorts of impatient horses, eager to be out for the day.

Where the night might have provided some horror to suggest a fierce battle was being waged between two equally skilled combatants, the morning reveals the sounds of creation instead. The clear ringing in the yard is coming from the forge in a steady, strong rhythm. The Master of the Forge is already hard at work.

After having given up at the prospect of sleep the night before, Isaac decided that he would feel more comfortable with his unwanted guests gone. Once that thought took root in his exhausted mind and body it wasn't that long before he designed a plan to be rid of his guests. Hector was here because his sword was broken. The others were here because of Hector. Thus, to get rid of them all, all he must do is repair the damaged blade. That is precisely what he's hard at work at now.

In spite of Isaac's exhaustion and tired mind he finds solace in his forge. Here he is master. Here the steady rhythm of his hand on the hammer, striking the steel and the movements of his arms on the bellows creates something new and exquisite. Here he can take raw material and create something valuable and wanted. Here he can take something broken and ill-used and give it new life. Here he is powerful. Here he is wanted and respected.

Isaac has been working for hours now. He lifts his careful work to examine it with discerning eyes. He searches the smoothed metal for any trace of flaw. His eyes study the metal with a critical gaze. He will tolerate no defect in his work. Though it crosses his mind briefly to return the blade to Hector sabotaged he quickly discards that idea. This blade will be used to defend Julia from her enemies. As bitter as he is about her betrayal, blood still remains thicker than water.

Isaac nods once, finally content with the workmanship of the blade. He proceeds to spend the next hour cleaning and polishing the blade to a fine hone. He reapplies the hilt, expertly wrapping the grip in tight leather to keep the blade from slipping from its master's hand. When the medium-length sword is finally prepared he lifts the blade to test the balance.

Finally, he gives the blade a few test swings before testing the edge on a bundle of straw. Satisfied with the regular use of the sword he then tests the blade on a large stone outside his forge. The blade cleaves into the granite as cleanly as the straw.

He will have to inform Hector about the extra materials he forged into the blade. The broken bits of minotaur thighbone seem to have strengthened the blade considerably and the diamonds in the blade leave the sheer edge as keen as if newly sharpened. No ordinary blade would tolerate such abuse as to attempt to cleave through rock.

Isaac glances up at the sky to find a startling view. Where he had started his work in the dead of night, the sun now graced the sky in all its glory. Though certainly not past Noon the late hour only emphasizes his stomach's unrest at having skipped breakfast. Once again he narrows his eyes at having his daily routines interrupted by his unwanted guests.

As Isaac watches the sky he notices that smoke is drifting softly from his kitchen chimney, mixing with the cold mountain air. He turns back to his forge, his concentration on his work long since broken and leaving his mostly exposed skin to the mercy of the cold without the distraction of his intense focus on other, more important matters. Isaac has never liked the cold. His constitution has always left him vulnerable to the ravages of winter, a season he's keenly aware is fast approaching, made even worse by the cold mountain air.

Shaking off his musings he sheathes Hector's repaired sword and once again dons his fir-lined coat. Having been warmed in the heat of the forge he waits for a moment to enjoy the comfortable, soft material. Isaac smiles at his own love of comfort. One might be persuaded to believe he is some pampered dandy simply visiting the real forge master.

Isaac contemplates bringing the sword with him to the house but quickly discards that idea. He won't re-arm Hector until he's certain the other Devil Forge Master is about to leave. Last night's confrontation with Trevor Belmont only emphasized the recklessness of his decision last evening. He knew from the moment he said it that allowing his former enemies to remain in his house with him was a foolish idea. However, having his sister and his former friend stay the night let him remember a time when he was happier, when he felt more alive.

There are other reasons why he didn't turn the others away. For one thing, he has to obey the laws of living at this residence. It may seem like his own home but that's because he has never seen his gracious host. The townspeople are quiet about who actually owns the premises but they are adamant about following the rules. Isaac couldn't turn Hector and his companions away so late at night. It would have complicated matters considerably. Besides, with all of them under his own roof he could keep an eye on them better. He's far from defenseless.

As Isaac opens the back door of his borrowed home, the one leading directly to his kitchen, he is met with quite a humorous sight. Before him is a young woman threatening Trevor Belmont with a kitchen knife. While the vampire hunter tries futilely to disarm the tenacious girl Isaac can't help but let out a soft chuckle.

Dressed in a simple blue dress with long, brown hair pulled back from a pale, round face with soft brown eyes adorning her features with a shrewd insight, the young woman seems a strange combination of naïve innocence and cunning insight. She's strangely stubborn in her complete unwillingness to be disarmed.

Isaac speaks clearly throughout the room, allowing his voice to carry. "I suspect you allowed yourself in unannounced again, Lillianna? I believe you were warned against such behavior."

The girl glances at Isaac quickly. She can't be much older than sixteen or seventeen but she's a cunning warrior. She makes absolutely certain that there is more than enough distance between herself and the vampire hunter to keep the scarred man at bay. Her voice is quiet yet full of steel when she speaks. "Your guests seem to be quite lacking in manners, Master Isaac. I wasn't expecting to be harried by so rough a man as I merely cooked breakfast."

Isaac flat-out laughs at the situation before quieting and looking at the scene before him with calm eyes. "Trevor Belmont, you have nothing to fear from Miss Pazorilli. She is the daughter of the headman of the village and serves as the innkeeper of Targo. Each day she brings up fresh bread for my larders. You might say she is my liaison to the town down the mountain."

Trevor backs up a step and lowers his hands, watching both the girl and Isaac carefully. Behind him Hector hovers near Julia and Sypha lingers in the back, near the hallway door, ready to cast some spell or another.

Trevor growls, "You didn't mention you had a servant."

Isaac shakes his head lightly. "Lillianna is not my servant. She performs a service for me out of courtesy, nothing more."

Lillianna slowly lowers her knife and returns back to the wood-burning stove to continue frying eggs for simple egg and cheese omelets. She speaks over her shoulder, "You seemed quite busy at the forge this morning, Master Isaac. I thought that I might surprise you with breakfast while I waited. My father wishes to know if his plow-sheer is done yet."

Isaac hangs up his coat behind the now-closed door and nods as he moves to lean back against a cupboard. "Yes, I completed it last evening. Your father can send his team to collect it at any time."

Lillianna pauses, glancing at the others who are finally settling down themselves. "Might I ask what you were working on for so long this morning?"

Isaac shrugs and crosses his arms. "I've been working on a special commission that came in last night." He has enough control not to look at Hector or the others. He doesn't really want them to know that Hector's sword is finished already. Changing the subject he asks, "How did things go in town last night?"

Lillianna smiles and expertly flips her omelets to a set of plates she's set aside for herself and Isaac. Noticing that there aren't enough plates for the others, Isaac moves to take out four more plates from the cupboard. Lillianna speaks as he stacks the plates on the others. "All went well. There were no incidents last night. You? I'm sure you were out before dawn. Did you have any trouble?"

Isaac frowns and pauses as he starts to serve his guests, who are paying rapt attention, trying to glean any information they can. Isaac shakes his head, his red hair falling over his eyes. "Not a sight nor sound. Though I'm not usually disturbed out here. Perhaps that's due to mutual respect. Either way, it matters little."

Lillianna finishes two more omelets and goes to get more eggs and cheese. "Justinian said he would handle it. I don't suspect we'll get any more trouble."

Isaac watches silently while Hector clearly has questions. However, Trevor is not content to remain silent. As Lillianna serves each of them a warm breakfast he asks, "Seeing as you haven't slept all night and returned to your forge, did you do anything about Hector's sword?"

Isaac smirks. "You'll find that battling gargoyles and golems will be much easier now. Hector's sword is complete. I expect you to take the sword and depart this place forth-with. However, I will ask one more time. Whatever trouble you have found, is it any threat to this town?"

Hector's mood lightens at the mention of his sword but darkens considerably at the mention of their current hunt. "I don't see how our troubles would concern you."

Isaac turns to Hector. "Perhaps it doesn't, perhaps it does. I have a debt to repay to certain members of this village. I merely wish to know if I should be expecting trouble."

Trevor watches the silent Lillianna for a moment before glancing at Julia and Sypha. Sypha is quiet, as always, a complete enigma to anyone who doesn't know her. Trevor _does _know her though and he's well aware that she's gathering as much information as she can. Her eyes turn to catch Trevor's and she nods silently, almost imperceptibly. Trevor immediately gets to the point and finally speaks.

Isaac turns to Trevor when the man says, "Trouble is making its way across Europe once again. The witch-hunts have resumed with fervor. Both the Church and the creatures of darkness are searching for something. I had intended to find out what that might be on my own yet Hector claimed hearing rumors from the West. Those rumors have lead us here. We intend to travel North. I won't say anything more than that. Do not interfere."

Isaac chuckles softly. "Why should I interfere? It's no concern to me if you both wish to go traipsing about the countryside in search of rumors. If you're looking for information from me, I have nothing to offer you."

Lillianna finally seats herself next to Isaac as she sets herself to eating her own plate of eggs. Julia watches her with unconcealed curiosity. Lillianna's quick glances to Isaac haven't gone unnoticed. Neither has the fact that Isaac is clearly keeping Lillianna from being noticed by Trevor Belmont and Hector.

Julia asks quietly, "How long have you two known each other? You both seem quite comfortable here. I can't help but believe such a breakfast isn't all that uncommon."

Lillianna smiles. "Master Isaac has been lending us his services coming up on two years in the spring. My father found him in the woods near here in pretty bad shape. We didn't think he would last that winter but…Master Isaac made it through, as you can see."

Isaac says, "As I mentioned, I have debts to repay here. I have no intention of leaving. Don't bring any trouble to Targo, Trevor Belmont. Some of my debts I'd rather not repay."

Julia asks quietly, "Are you happy here, Isaac?"

Isaac shrugs. "I am content, Julia. I have no desire to be any other place. My past is finished, more or less. I will leave it at that."

"You don't want us to stay."

"No. I don't." Isaac's eyes harden to liquid steel. "I could wish you would go home, Julia, but I know you too well for that."

Julia smiles with a bittersweet expression. "I can say one favorable fact for this journey. I have discovered my brother is alive and well. If for nothing else this journey has been worth much to me."

Isaac watches his guests for a moment before asking, "Why are you on this journey? I understand Belmont's involvement. I can see why Hector would be determined to go. I even see the necessity for Lady Belnades. Why are you traveling with them? I see no reason for you to abandon your home for this."

Julia glances at Hector. "Something evil is coming, Isaac. I cannot say what else may compel me. I feel that it is important for me to travel with them. They may need my help."

Hector speaks from across the table, watching carefully for any reaction from Isaac. "I agreed to allow her to travel with us for several reasons, Isaac. Her own powers make her a valuable ally for one. For another, I felt ill at ease leaving her at her hut. The witch-hunts have taken a turn for the worse. The persecution spreads as the Church relentlessly kills all the witches they find in their hunt. They are no longer concerned with reform…"

Isaac shrugs. "I am well-aware. We have not been entirely unaffected here."

Lillianna smirks. "We had one wandering monk try to tell us that old Gertrude was a witch and we had to remove her stain from our good God-fearing town." Her eyes dance with impish delight. "We threw him in the river and told him to cool off. Gertrude's on her last legs. She's not hurting anyone. Besides, we all like listening to her old stories."

Hector blinks at her, astounded. "You threw a member of God's Church in the river?"

Lillianna pouts and crosses her arms. "He was being rude. He deserved it."

Isaac chuckles softly, clearly amused. "You'll have to forgive Lillianna. She's rather headstrong. She has lived in Targo all her life so she's not tainted by the foolishness of outside dogma."

Trevor narrows his eyes but it's Sypha who speaks with a calm, gentle voice. "The Church is not out to harm the innocent, Isaac."

Isaac looks at her with a shuttered expression. "No, they seek to destroy anyone who doesn't bow to their whims. Gertrude _is_ a witch. Many of the villagers here seek her advice when they grow ill. Her knowledge as an herbalist is second to none. Her prices are reasonable and her manner is relaxing. I, myself, owe her a debt for her knowledge of the healing craft; a craft the Church has declared vile sorcery. Forgive me, Lady Belnades, but sometimes prayer is not enough."

Lillianna interjects, "God helps those who help themselves right? We pray. We go to church. We do all the things God asks of us but the winters are still hard. Children still get sick. Men still break their legs in the snow. What's wrong with using our own two hands to fix things and make them better?"

Isaac moves his hand to rest it on Lillianna's shoulder, calming her. "Lillianna's mother thought that going to an herbalist to do something about her cough would go against God's teachings. She died of pneumonia when Lillianna was young. Gertrude could have saved her."

Sypha frowns lightly but says nothing more.

Lillianna picks at her omelet, having mostly finished it but now having difficulty swallowing around the lump in her throat. She says softly, "The Church isn't always right. I was raised to listen to what God is telling me in my heart. Gertrude is a good, kind old grandmother. I grew up with her great grandson and she's never treated me poorly. I can't see her as evil. She's never asked me to do all that stuff they say witches do."

Isaac smirks. "The Church and its members wouldn't know a real witch from a spinster with a broom."

Julia lifts her hand to try to muffle her chuckle.

Lillianna looks at Isaac, questions brimming in her eyes. Isaac forestalls her endless questioning with a quick, "No, I won't tell you how I know that."

Lillianna pouts again. "You're worse than Father. He won't tell me anything interesting either."

Isaac shakes his head. "I thought Master Grey was filling your head with enough stories to keep you satisfied."

Lillianna smiles like an imp. "Master Grey was busy last night so I'll have to get my daily story from you."

Isaac rolls his eyes and gives a long-suffering sigh. With Lillianna there he is clearly more relaxed. Hector can't help but feel that he's intruding on something that should be private. He also can't help but notice that the girl is clearly smitten with Isaac.

Isaac notices the protective glare from Hector and he immediately draws up his defenses again. For a moment he had forgotten that these people were supposed to be his enemies.

Isaac doesn't take his eyes from Hector, and Trevor, when he says, "I'm sure your father needs you to carry out other duties, Lillianna. I believe it's time for you to go back home. I have other matters to attend to in the forge as well."

Lillianna frowns but consents. "As you wish, Master Isaac." She stands and bows to them all with a light dip of her head and shoulders. "It was a pleasure to meet all of you. Should you find yourselves needing a room in town, do not hesitate to visit me at the Wayfarer Inn."

Lillianna is quick to depart soon afterwards. Isaac stands and begins to clear his table of dishes. The others watch him for a moment before Julia gets up to help.

Julia looks up at her brother as he sets the dishes to water and begins to clean them. "Why did you send her away?"

Isaac looks at Julia. He's positioned himself so that he can keep an eye on his three other guests as well. "I have no interest in deluding myself with the thought that your intentions are strictly friendly. Should any of you decide to finish what was started two years ago, Lillianna would be an unwelcome distraction."

Trevor stands and growls, "So enough of this charade, Isaac. You may have pulled the wool over the eyes of the villagers but _I_ am not fooled by this seeming complacency."

Isaac's hand is immediately wrapped around the hilt of his kitchen knife. He hesitates to attack though. "I have repaired Hector's sword. Hitch your horses and proceed to the North, Belmont. I have no desire to battle you a second time."

Hector reaches to stay Trevor's hand, much as he did the night before. "Nothing has changed, Belmont. We will take the sword and continue as planned. There's no need for this."

Trevor hisses, clearly not willing to be so easily appeased. "I don't trust him at my back, Hector, and neither should you." His shrewd, scarred eyes carefully examine Isaac. "I want to see your sword before we go. His treachery is boundless."

Isaac frowns. "Are you suggesting that I sabotaged the blade?"

Trevor glares at him. "I want to see the sword."

Isaac stands back as he begins to dry his dishes with a dry cloth. He forestalls Julia's protest when he says, "Very well, test the sword before you leave but after that you _will_ leave you will _not_ look back."

Isaac dries the last of his dishes and leaves them on the table, ready to be put away. He steps back and motions for his guests to precede him out the door. He's not surprised when Trevor refuses to exit before him. Hiding the kitchen knife along his arm as he leaves the room for the cold outdoors, he says over his shoulder, "Make sure you close the door on your way out."


	4. Complicated Simplicity

Disclaimer: Castlevania © Konami. "Sympathy for the Devil" and all original characters and places © Christine J. Burke.

Sympathy for the Devil

Chapter 4: Complicated Simplicity

On the one hand, Hector could understand Trevor's concern over the possible sabotage of his sword. On the other hand, the Belmont has clearly forgotten that Hector himself is a Devil Forge Master. Perhaps their friendship over the past two years has clouded his judgment. Perhaps Trevor remembers how he expressed his remorse over being unable to save Isaac from the Curse. He'll admit that he was barely able to save himself.

Hector watches Isaac's proud form walking to his forge. He can tell the other Devil Forge Master is ill at ease with their presence. However, Isaac was never one to let his fears control him. Between the two of them Isaac was always much more hotheaded. Much as anyone who has seen the worst the world has to offer, Isaac's devil-may-care attitude seems insanely reckless to someone who has _not_ seen the worst of human depravity.

Hector glances to the side where Julia is tight-lipped and stony-faced. She's the only one who knows about Isaac's true past now. He's not sure if even she knows the full truth. Though they were rather close when both he and Isaac worked in Dracula's Castle, Isaac never spoke much of his past. In fact, Isaac never spoke of his past at all. It took the affair two years ago to discover that Isaac even had a sister. Since then Hector has learned some of Isaac's past from Julia but Hector is loath to continually bring up such a sore subject to her. In spite of her quiet, accepting nature, Julia did not take her brother's apparent death very well.

Hector watches as Isaac's back tenses when Trevor follows behind him. He's convinced that Isaac is concerned about an attack from behind. Two years ago, Trevor Belmont almost met his end due to Isaac. The fiery smith had attacked Trevor from behind and almost killed him. The vampire hunter clearly still holds that event as a sore point between them.

Much like his sister, Isaac has always been an accepting individual. He never questioned Lord Dracula's orders. To Isaac, the word of his lord was given law. If Lord Dracula wished to destroy the human race, it had nothing to do with him. Hector could never agree with that. He could never understand it. He couldn't use his power to take innocent lives. Isaac clearly had no difficulty with it.

When Isaac throws open the door of his forge, Hector draws himself out of his thoughts. His eyes widen in amazement as Isaac pulls his newly forged sword from its sheath. His damaged, broken, chipped and scarred blade is given new and deadly life. Isaac holds the blade before him so everyone present can inspect it.

Isaac's voice brooks no distraction. "The blade is tempered with precision. I've added a few elements to strengthen it and keep its edge keen." He glares at Trevor. "I trust it is to your satisfaction."

Trevor's eyes narrow. "I want to see it in use. Prove to me that this blade will serve us well."

Isaac frowns. "Tell me why I would sabotage the blade that will keep my sister from harm."

Trevor's eyes glint wickedly, the scars crinkling in his scowl. "She betrayed you."

Isaac actually snorts. "If I had any intension of seeking retribution this would not be my choice. I have better taste than that. Even under the Curse's influence I had better taste than that."

"Two years ago, to exact your revenge upon Hector, you had him undertake a nearly impossible quest to destroy you. It would suit your tastes to try something so underhanded."

Isaac rolls his eyes in irritation. When he looks back at Trevor he says with a deadly edge to his voice, "Yet that entire affair was only to force Hector to regain his powers." He waves his hand. "None of that matters. If you require a demonstration of the blade, so be it."

Hector watches in fascination as Isaac gathers several bundles of tightly packed straw and sets them up side by side near the outer wall of the forge. Without any sort of posturing he swings the sword with the easy grace he's always remembered. His eyes widen as the sword slices cleanly through each bundle in one swipe. Not a splinter can be seen. The sword doesn't catch on any of the fibrous fragments. Hector is already impressed with the blade.

Isaac glances at Hector for a moment before leveling his gaze on Trevor once again. "Did you need a further demonstration?"

Trevor is also impressed with the craftsmanship of the blade but he still has his misgivings. "You boasted that the sword would be effective against stone beasts. I want to see proof."

Isaac growls under his breath but he leads them outside to the yard where he tested the blade on the granite earlier. Much like with the straw the blade flies in his hand with precise ease. Everyone's eyes widen when they see the smooth cut that shears a large chunk from the rock, everyone but Isaac.

Isaac's eyes are focused nearly entirely on Trevor. "Any further tests?"

Trevor moves back inside the forge, making his way to the side of the sweltering building where Isaac keeps much of his saleable work. He picks out a smooth sword with a light heft and near-perfect balance. He lifts the sword to examine it. "No. Just one more test." He glances at Isaac. "How will the blade stand up in battle?"

Hector shouts, as Julia makes a cry of denial, "What are you doing, Belmont? We did not come here for this!"

Isaac remains eerily calm. "Did you not say to me last night not to equate you with the likes of myself? Yet, I am the one who must watch for treachery. Do you truly seek a test of the blade or are you looking for an excuse to do me harm?" He raises an eyebrow at Trevor. "There is a fine line between justice and revenge, Belmont. Which side are you on?"

Trevor's eyes become guarded but something in his expression suggest he's taken the chastisement to heart. "You have a forked tongue, fiend. Yet I know you speak the truth." He nods to the forge's doors. "I still desire to see the blade in action. I am impressed with your work thus far. Let us see just how good your work truly is."

Isaac shrugs and proceeds to follow the vampire hunter out the door. It hasn't escaped him that Trevor may be ill at ease with turning his back on him but he won't let his distrust make him seem weak. That's not to say Isaac even thought the vampire hunter was weak. He just couldn't understand how this single human being could be the integral factor that brought about his lord's death.

Hector steps forward to stop Isaac with a hand on his arm. "You don't need to do this."

Isaac's colorless eyes, glowing with the flames of the forge, just gaze back at Hector. "None of you will leave until he is satisfied. I won't mince words with you today, Hector. I want you all gone from this place. Do not come back here."

Hector winces at the cold dispassion he hears in Isaac's voice. This man before him speaks as one already fatally wounded. There is still fire in his eyes and voice but it's a cold fire and it chills him to the core. "I…"

Isaac jerks his arm from Hector's grip. "Say nothing. I will prove my craft to Belmont and give you your sword. You will then take the blade and go." He doesn't wait for Hector's response as he walks out the door with a final parting shot. "Twice now you have left me for Death, Hector. One day you will find out what that really means."

Hector frowns in confusion and glances at Julia. The fair-haired witch looks back at him with sad eyes but doesn't say anything. When Hector finally gathers himself to follow the other Devil Forge Master out of the door he is greeted by the sight of Isaac and Trevor squaring off in the large yard. Both are armed and both are deadly warriors.

Isaac rolls his shoulders and gives the blade a few test swings before settling in a guarded position. Hector can see, from all his knowledge of Isaac's fighting style, that the fiery-haired smith won't make the first move. Isaac is already on the defensive and Hector can't fathom why.

Trevor Belmont is also well aware of Isaac's apparent unease with the situation. His scarred eyes watch Isaac's every move. Nothing about the way the other man moves suggests weakness. However, Trevor has no intention of taking any chances. He's not unfamiliar with a sword but he's been using the Vampire Killer for so long he almost feels like a traitor to be wielding a sword now.

Trevor's hand twitches towards his hip where he keeps the trusted Belmont whip. Isaac's stance changes ever so slightly. The lithe man is wary of the whip. Trevor's eyes travel to meet Isaac's and he sees concentration, and a small but obvious trace of excitement, reflected in the other man's eyes.

Before Hector can even blink, Trevor makes his first move. With a lesser warrior the battle could have ended right there. However, Isaac is _not_ a lesser warrior. With a swing of his hips and a quick re-adjustment of the position of his feet he barely moves but is quickly out of the way of Trevor's sword.

Hector is immediately concerned. Isaac didn't parry the blow as he expected. His impression that something is wrong only increases when Isaac dodges the next three strikes as well. He makes no move to retaliate.

Trevor calls to Isaac as he steps back from the other man to watch him carefully. "Have you lost your spine these past two years? Why do you not attack? Show me what I wish to see. Prove to me your blade is as good as you say."

Isaac's annoyance is a palpable thing. He glares at Trevor but darts forward to attack the other man's sword. At the last moment he adjusts the angle of his blade so that it only slices cleanly through the other blade, near the hilt, and not the man wielding that blade.

As Hector and the others stare at the spectacle with dumbfounded expressions, Isaac says, "Now you owe me twenty five gold pieces for the time and expense it will take me to repair that sword you borrowed for this farce."

Trevor falls back on his heels, off balance, as he stares up at Isaac, who is calmly examining his new blade. He's completely shocked to see the blade seems as flawless as when the battle started. However, that is not the true extent of his shock. If Isaac hadn't altered his swing at the last moment the blade would have clove him in two along with the sword he was wielding. "Why?"

It takes Hector a moment longer to realize the extent of the true outcome of the battle. His gaze immediately and acutely focuses on Isaac. Isaac takes out a piece of soft, oiled leather and cleans the blade before replacing it in Hector's sheath and presenting the sword to him. He's completely ignored Trevor's hushed question.

Isaac looks into Hector's eyes as the blond man accepts the blade. "If my sister dies on your journey I will hunt you down and you will be grateful for Death's tender arms before the end."

Hector accepts the blade with amazingly steady hands. He nods once before looking Isaac in his clear blue eyes. "You've no need to concern yourself with thoughts of revenge, Isaac. Should anything happen to Julia you can be sure that I've already gone to prepare the way for her."

Isaac actually smirks. "You're too honorable for your own good, Hector. Just take care of her…and yourself." He turns away from them and walks over to the broken blade to pick it up. He examines the pieces lightly.

Trevor storms forward but Isaac suddenly turns on his heel and the broken hilt with nearly four inches of dangerous blade, is at Trevor's throat. Isaac hisses, "Why, you ask? Why didn't I kill you?" Isaac snorts, more of an exasperated huff. "You'll see it when I choose to destroy you. If I choose to kill you I want you to make no mistake that I _planned_ to kill you all along. I don't need to attack you from behind to kill you. Your thoughtless foolishness proved that today. I used that blade to cut solid stone, Belmont. What did you honestly believe it would do to a simple iron short sword?"

Hector looks as if he would move forward to stop the fiery smith but he realizes that from this distance, nearly twenty feet away now, he would have no chance of saving Trevor's live if Isaac decides to kill him. He steps back and moves his hand to a pouch on his padded vest, ready to summon Asp, his most loyal and agile devil.

Isaac takes the broken blade from Trevor's throat and steps back. "As I said, you will see it when I finally decide to kill you. Let us both hope it never comes to that. I'd really rather not deal with it." He turns to head to the forge, his back stiff yet still oddly fluid as he turns it to his two most dangerous opponents.

Isaac has given a clear statement in Hector's mind. Isaac may not like the situation he's in but he's been in control the entire time. As impressed as he is by that idea, Hector also finds it increasingly frightening.


End file.
